


Make The Flowers Grow

by Twackycat



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: A lot of things are assumed, And that makes an ass out of you and me, Asexual Character, Asexual Enjolras, Asexual Grantaire, Assumed Aromantic Character, Assumed Unrequited Love, Flowers, Hanahaki Disease, Idiots in Love, M/M, Mutual Pining, Nonbinary Character, Nonbinary Jehan, Pining, Things Work out in the End, Those play a pretty big part, oh yeah, that is how I remember how to spell ass-u-me, yes - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-08
Updated: 2018-06-08
Packaged: 2019-05-19 09:56:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14871563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Twackycat/pseuds/Twackycat
Summary: Grantaire has been coughing up flowers because of Enjolras and has been hiding it for a while now. Then one day everything comes to a head.





	Make The Flowers Grow

**Author's Note:**

> So this was meant to be a piece for Baricade Day. Whoops. I'm a little late, but it snuck up on me, and I don't have internet at my house. I actually finished this last night at like 11:30 on June 6th, but couldn't post it. I apologize for the shitty title and summary.  
> I'm surprised that there isn't more Hanahaki in the fandom. I will say that my take on it is probably a little different than usual. When someone gets Hanahaki, it's from believing there is a lack of reciprocated love. So the love doesn't have to be romantic love, and it doesn't have to actually be unrequited love.

Grantaire sat in the back of the room like he always did, though he was a little bit more silent than usual. Joly had noticed, which meant he’d shared his concern with Bossuet, but other than that no one else had noticed. He tried his best not to look towards his friends, knowing he’d find worry in their eyes.

He often wondered why he came to the meetings. Actually, he knew the exact reason why, and he was standing at the front of the room, passionately going on about their current campaign on how to help people stop smoking.

Okay so, Joly and Bossuet’s concern was definitely justified. It was well known by all of the Amis that Grantaire was a heavy smoker and had been for the past two or so years. And Grantaire could admit, to himself, if not anyone else, that he felt a little bit attacked with the topic, and he’d seen all of the looks, mostly frowns, that Enjolras had sent his way since they’d started this new project.

“We can give the people who want to stop smoking the resources and help they need to be able to quit.” Before he could stop himself, Grantaire found himself scoffing. All eyes in the room were immediately on him. He shook his head, silently begging Enjolras to ignore him for once. “No. I want to know your opinion on this project. You’ve been quite this whole time.”

“You can give someone all the resources and support in the world, but sometimes it doesn’t help at all.” Though he kept his eyes firmly just over Enjolras’ shoulder, he could feel the pitying gaze from all the others.

“Have you even tried to quit?” Everyone froze. No one ever mentioned Grantaire’s smoking habits. Everyone knew about it, but it wasn’t something that was talked about, at least it not in front of Grantaire. When he saw Enjolras’ glare, R felt his heart break a little and breathing hurt a little bit more than before.

“I can’t.” It was the truth, though not the one that everyone else assumed. He’d found out that smoking had helped curb the Hanahaki that was growing in his chest. Though it didn’t seem to be helping much anymore, it had to be helping to some degree.

“If you don’t believe in what we’re doing, why are you here?” Everyone was nervously looking between their blond leader and the black-haired cynic. Grantaire felt his chest tighten even more and bit his lip to stop himself from coughing. Enjolras just stared at him, waiting for an answer. When the urge to cough subsided, Grantaire met Enjolras’ blue eyes and told him the truth.

“I believe in you.” Grantaire swore the room just got quieter, if that were even physically possible.

“Be serious.” Grantaire almost whined as his chest tightened again at Enjolras’ scathing tone. Instead he flashed a grin that didn’t reach his eyes and laughed away his own pain.

“I am wild.” Downing the remainder of his bottle, he slammed it on the table, and grabbed his jacket. He purposefully made a show of digging a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and slipping one between his lips as he walked out. As soon as the door fell shut behind him, he ran down the stairs and out the back door of the café.

Grantaire tucked the unlit cigarette behind his ear as he fell to his knees in the alleyway and started coughing harshly. He brought his hands up to his mouth to catch the petals that were forcing their way out. For a second Grantaire just stared at the nearly whole rose that was sitting innocently in the palms of his hand. It was, at one point, a pure white rose. Now it was splattered with blood from his lungs, and the tips of the petals were stained black from all of his smoking.

He felt tears weld up in the corner of his eyes as he thought about the beauty he’d destroyed. White roses were for purity and innocence, the exact opposite of what he was.

Grantaire jerked when a hand suddenly landed on his shoulder. Looking up, he was met with Jehan’s concerned eyes. They searched his face for a second before their eyes dipped to his hands. Their eyes widened and a small ‘oh’ slipped from their mouth. He squeezed his eyes to shut so he didn’t have to see his friend’s pity.

“I understand.” Grantaire scoffed. “I do R, I really do.” He opened his eyes to see red rose petals crumpled in Jehan’s hands. So, they were in the same boat as him, though they were obviously better at hiding their feelings.

“Who?”

“Combeferre and Courfeyrac.” Grantaire winced. Of course, Jehan would fall in love with both members of the power couple in their friend group. But even after thinking about it for only a second, Grantaire knew they would open their arms to Jehan in a heartbeat.

“You should tell them.”

“Only if you tell Enjolras.”

“No.” He felt bad about snapping at them, especially so loudly, but he’d already resigned himself.

“But R-”

“I said no!” Grantaire shouted, cutting off whatever protestations Jehan had. “You have a chance of having something really beautiful. Don’t throw that away!” Grantaire broke off into a coughing fit as he tried not to think about the fact he would never get that.

“So do you!” He closed his eyes at Jehan’s optimistic insistence.

“I really don’t.” His voice cracked, and he hung his head to help hide his tears. It was then the backdoor swung open and their friends tumbled out, all looking around.

“We heard shouting.” Courfeyrac looked at the two on the ground with concern.

“It’s nothing, just a little disagreement.” Jehan immediately tried to brush off their worry.

“Jehan has Hanahaki and they’re refusing to tell who they’re in love with.” Grantaire felt terrible for throwing them under the bus when all of their friends swarmed to Jehan’s side, all asking questions on top of each other. But he also used the distraction to move towards the mouth of the alley, intent on sneaking away from them. R was almost out when someone stepped in front of him. Looking up, his heart fluttered, and his chest clenched at Enjolras’ disapproving glare.

“Don’t let Grantaire slip away!” Jehan’s voice rose above the worried voiced of their friends and they all immediately turned to see where Enjolras had stopped his escape. Quickly Grantaire found himself herded back into the café and up the stairs to the backroom. Bahorel sat closest to the door, obviously prepared to stop anymore escape attempts. Everyone but Enjolras sat in a rough circle around Jehan and Grantaire. Enjolras was pacing angerly in front of them, but when he opened his mouth to lash out, Jehan beat him to it.

“Grantaire also has Hanahaki and its much farther along. He’s the one we need to worry about.”

At that point all Grantaire wanted to do was shrink in on himself and disappear. Hunching his shoulders, he but his lip as his chest tightened, though he couldn’t tell if it was from his Hanahaki or his anxiety. Combeferre however noticed and knelt down in front of him.

“Don’t try to suppress your cough. It’ll only make it worse.” Grantaire wanted to laugh at that, it wasn’t just going to get worse no matter what he did. Instead of a snort or a scoff, he started coughing. Very soon he had two mostly formed roses in his hands. The Amis were as silent at they were earlier as Combeferre gently set the flowers in Grantaire’s lap and then took his hands. “They’re mostly formed. You had to have been hiding this for a year-”

“Two, probably closer to three.” Grantaire whispered this, but in the nearly silent room, everybody heard it.

“What?!” Feuilly squeaked, looking very pale at the thought of his friend having suffered that long and not sought help for it.

“That’s as long as I’ve known you.” Grantaire chose to ignore Enjolras’ comment.

“How? Most cases are fatal by a year, 18 months at the very most.” Combeferre was looking at him very closely.

“Originally my smoking seemed to kill it, kept it at bay. But recently it hasn’t done anything except trigger coughing fits.”

“That’s why you can’t stop smoking.” Enjolras looked more than a little horrified when he realized. R gave a sharp nod and ended up doubled over coughing up another almost complete rose.

“Why didn’t you get the surgery?” R immediately tried to brush off Bossuet’s question.

“I’m terrified of needles and all things medical.” Everyone saw through it though.

“For a life saving operation you would have overcome that fear. Why didn’t you get the surgery?” Courfeyrac’s voice was gentle but also pushing; there was no room for debate.

“Because the love was the first thing I’d felt in a long time. Still is usually.” Grantaire cut himself off and bit his lip as tears trailed down his cheeks. A hand was on his back rubbing gentle circles in an instant. “I didn’t want to go back to feeling so empty. Better to die from love than go back to nothing and probably end up dead anyway.” In an instant, Grantaire found himself practically dog piled as his friends all tried to hug him at once. After a second, they relented and looked at him worriedly.

“Why didn’t you tell anyone?” Grantaire wasn’t sure if Bahorel’s question was about his Hanahaki or his depression, but the answer was the same either way.

“I didn’t want anyone to worry about me. I’m not worth it.” He flinched slightly when Jehan was suddenly a koala; clinging to him.

“Please tell me you don’t really believe that!” He was silent for too long as he debated what he wanted to tell them. “R!”

“It’s true though!” Jehan whimpered and buried their face in his shoulder.

“It’s not. I promise you it’s not.” Grantaire let out a frustrated noise as he suddenly stood up, dumping Jehan onto the floor.

“This isn’t the first time I’ve had Hanahaki.” He ignored the gasps from everyone and plowed on. “I was always a sickly kid, a near constant cough, and it only got better when my mom would take care of me. But as I grew older, she stopped sitting by my bed; she stopped caring. And I only got worse. Then my mom committed suicide, and, in her note, she said she couldn’t deal with a sick kid all the time on top of her own Hanahaki. That night was the first night I ever coughed up petals. I was nine.

“Of course I turned to my father for comfort, and he ignored me. When I threw the petals at his feet, he threw a punch. I suffered through six more years of him before I was emancipated. Six years of bruises, of broken bones, of teachers, of everyone overlooking the obvious, of no help what-so-ever. But I never coughed up another petal for that man. Nobody ever gave a damn about me, so yeah. I do think that.” The room was silent as they tried to understand the pain he had to have gone through.

“Why didn’t you just tell them you loved them?” Instead of answering Bossuet’s question, Grantaire sank to his knees. His shoulders hunched in as he collapsed in on himself. He kept his eyes closes and his head bowed as tears started to drip down his cheeks. His emotions were all over the place and he didn’t know what direction his mind was pulling him in. He suddenly found himself gasping as his crying turned into sobbing and then quickly into coughing. Someone was once again rubbing gentle circles into his back, and once he was done hacking up the mutilated white roses, he choked out an answer.

“The man I love is the only thing I believe in.” The hand on his back stopped moving but stayed comfortingly on his shoulder as Enjolras moved from behind him to kneel in front of him. It took Grantaire longer than it should have to realize that it was Enjolras’ hand on his shoulder, but when he did, he dropped his gaze to the ground.

Gently Enjolras pulled his hands into his and caressed the backs with his thumbs. Grantaire was shaking apart and kept his eyes firmly on the ground. He refused to see the pity he knew was in Enjolras’ eyes as he rejected him, or worse; dated him out of pity in an effort to save his life.

Grantaire flinched when Enjolras gently cupped his face, thumbing away the tears that continued to fall. After taking several painful breaths, he finally met Enjolras’ eyes, knowing the other man wouldn’t speak until he did. He couldn’t read his icy blue eyes and he honestly couldn’t tell if that was worse than seeing the pity he knew Enjolras felt for him.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” It felt like such a loaded question, but Grantaire knew he had nothing to lose, no matter what his answer was. Neither of them noticed that their friends had snuck out of the room to give them some privacy.

“I fell the first time I saw you. I fell for your looks and your boundless optimism at the same time. But I knew that a guy like you would never date a guy like me. And I was terrified because I’m asexual and I didn’t know how you would react. And yeah, now I know you’re asexual too, but I didn’t know that initially.

“But I couldn’t get you out of my head, so I started attending meetings and then we started arguing about everything. I thought it would go away when that started, but it just got worse as I realized that I wanted to believe in everything you were talking about and I was going to tell you and then I found out you were asexual and I knew you would be perfect, but that was shattered in a few seconds because I also found out that you’re aromantic.

“I threw up when I found out. Because I know how it feels to have people coming onto you and its completely unwanted and I know that’s how you feel about relationships in general and I felt so disgusted at the thought that I might have basically done that to you that I threw up. And that’s when I told myself I’d never let you know because I didn’t want to put you in the awkward position and I’m so sorry that I wasn’t able to keep that to myself and now you’re in that awkward position. And I’m sorry. I know-”

Grantaire was shocked into silence by Enjolras gently resting his forehead against Grantaire’s while also threading his hand through his black curls. They were silent for several seconds, but when Grantaire opened his mouth to start apologizing again, Enjolras covered R’s mouth with a single finger. Several seconds later, once Enjolras had finished gathering his thoughts, he spoke.

“I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.” Grantaire felt his heart clench and shatter at the same time. This was it; Enjolras was going to reject him once and for all. “There’s been a huge misunderstanding that could have saved us, especially you, a lot of hurt.” As he spoke, he gently squeezed the back of R’s neck. “You’re right that I’m asexual, but I’m not aromantic.” Grantaire jerked a little, but Enjolras kept their foreheads pressed together as he spoke, his voice low. “I’m demiromantic. I don’t think it’s other people’s business what my romanticallity is, so I just let people assume. And most assume that I’m aromantic. And I was so busy sorting out my own feeling that I didn’t notice yours.” Grantaire could hardly bare to hope, but he had to know.

“And what are your feelings?”

“That I’m in love with you.” Grantaire couldn’t believe it. There was no way that this was actually happening. Then Enjolras withdrew his hand from Grantaire’s curls and dipped into his pocket. R’s eyes widened when he saw the rose petals. They weren’t his ruined white, or Jehan’s red, instead they were yellow tipped with red.

Grantaire felt more tears spring to his eyes as Enjolras gently cupped his cheek again and pressed their lips together. As he brought his arms up to wrap around the blond and deepen the kiss, Grantaire felt like he could breathe again for the first time in a very long time.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> This is the shortest unrelated story that I've written that I've been really proud of. Usually I get novel length ideas and lose steam part way through. I may or may not write a sequel to wrap up the whole Combeferre/Courfeyrac/Jehan thing, but if I don't, know that everything works out in the end.


End file.
